


Stay By You

by curiosityismyname



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Reader-Insert, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosityismyname/pseuds/curiosityismyname
Summary: Elliot lied, and truth be told, you weren't very surprised about it. (In which Elliot has withdrawals and you refuse to leave his side.)





	

Elliot lied, and truth be told, you weren't very surprised about it. If you had to be honest, you were actually expecting him to break his promise a hell of a lot sooner than this. (It wasn't that you lacked faith in him, it was just that you knew the habits he had; knew the lies he was willing to tell if it meant easing the mind and worry of a friend.) The fact that he actually lasted three weeks was pretty...astounding. And you were proud of him for going that long without taking any morphine, really.

But then he didn't text you yesterday, or this morning, like he usually did, nor did he call you a little after noon, which was when he usually woke up on his days off when he finally managed to get some sleep. You were worried, and you knew something was up. He only ever ignored you like this when he did something wrong, did something you asked him not to do. So you knew it was time to check in on him, even if it was just for a few minutes. Elliot had self-destructive habits (too many to count, too many to not worry over), and you needed to make sure he was okay. (Needed to make sure he was alive.)

You stood in front of the familiar door—a door you've seen many times in the four months you'd known Elliot. It was almost funny, in a way, when you thought about it. When you met him on the train that day, when you offered him your seat because he looked like he was about to fall over and pass out, never would you have imagined you'd become a somewhat good friend to him. (You never imagined you'd fall for him, never imagined your heart would cling to this one strange person.) All you had done was offer your seat. Then, five days a week, the two of you almost always ended up on the same car in the subway as you headed home from work. You'd smile at him, he'd give you a nod in response, you'd ask how his day went, he'd ask about yours. And from there, it became...routine. It was nice.

Then you decided to take the next step. You asked if he wanted to join you to a trip to the bookstore that was just down the street from your apartment. He agreed, surprisingly, though after a bit of hesitation.

After that, you both exchanged numbers, and texting each other became apart of your routine.

But that was enough of thinking of the past. You were here for a reason. To make sure Elliot was alright.

Taking a deep breath, you took out your key and placed it in the lock; turning it and hearing the small click as the door unlocked. You stepped into his dark apartment. It took your eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, and you looked around the room. Of course everything was the same, save for the fact that the computer monitors that were usually always on were now off.

It only took a second for you to find him on his bed, writhing beneath the blankets with wide eyes. His skin was slick with sweat, and he was mumbling under his breath; looking around wildly as he twisted this way and that as he took in heavy breaths.

He was already suffering from withdraws. Shit.

You closed the door and instantly dropped your bag to the floor, making your way to the empty side of his bed and taking a seat. "Elliot. Elliot, hey, it's me," you said, waving your hand in front of his face to get his attention. You would've set your hand on his shoulder, seeing as he was finally okay with you doing that, but you weren't sure how'd he react in his current state. It was better to be cautious than to assume anything at the moment.

It took him a moment, wide eyes seeing nothing as they almost seemed to stare right through you. "It's me, (f/n)," you repeated, voice quiet. You were sure you looked concerned – you were very concerned – and the worry was clearly traceable in your voice. It seemed to drag Elliot back to reality for a moment, because his brows pulled together as he swallowed hard and his gaze seemed to become momentarily lucid.

"(f/n)...? What– What are you doing here? H-How long have you...?" A muscle spasmed, he twitched, and he reached to grab his shoulder with a shaking hand; unable to stay completely still as he lightly squirmed in his spot.

"You didn't answer your phone for the last two days," you answered. "I just got here a minute ago. Elliot, are you alright? Do...do you want to go to the hospital?"

"No hospital," he quickly whispered, shaking his head as he began to lose his focus once more. He pulled the pillow away from under his head, pushing it over against the wall before clenching his fist around it a moment later and pulling it down to his side to hold it close. "No hospital, no hospital," he murmured, and he began his writhing again, eyes unfocused and teeth gritting.

You worried at your bottom lip as you felt your chest constrict. You'd never seen anyone go through withdraws before. You had heard how bad they could get, how long they could last, but sitting here, witnessing your friend (no, not friend, the one you love, the one you love so much it almost hurts–) going through it... It terrified you.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew Elliot didn't like being touched, and even though he was just starting to allow you to touch his shoulder, you decided to take a risky move. Reaching out, you grabbed his hand and held onto it tightly. The palm beneath yours was sweaty and hot, too hot for your liking, really. Normally Elliot would've flinched away at the unexpected physical contact, a look of panic flashing through his eyes for a mere millisecond before being replaced with slight discomfort. But he didn't, not this time. Probably because he was too far gone in the withdraws, not even noticing you were holding his hand.

You held on tight to his hand, murmuring it was going to be okay as you ran your fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. His hand squeezed yours tightly, to the point where it hurt, but you didn't dare let go; fearing that if you did, he would somehow get so lost in the withdraws that he wouldn't come out of it, that he would die.

Even when he turned and thrashed and grabbed at your arms, digging nails into your skin and leaving bruises and tiny cuts, you didn't let go. You wouldn't. You'd stay by his side no matter what. Elliot hated being alone, you knew that. And there was no way you were going to leave him to go through this alone.

"You're gonna get through this," you whispered. "You're not alone. You're gonna get through this."

Truth be told, you weren't sure who you were trying to comfort by whispering that; Elliot...or yourself?

\- - - - - - - - - -

Two and a half days. That's how long it took before you noticed the symptoms weren't as bad as the day you walked in. You were tired– no, that didn't even begin to sum up what you felt. You were exhausted, getting only an hour and a half or so of sleep in the last two days. You were hungry, too, seeing as you hadn't eaten either. But the only reason you would leave Elliot's side was to use the bathroom, grab some water, or to change the damp cloth you kept on hand to help cool him down. That was it.

Your back ached from the lack of movement and the uncomfortable positions you'd been forced to stay in, but you paid no attention to the discomfort. Your hand was still tightly clinging to Elliot's, your thumb rubbing small circles on the back of his palm. He let out a small whimper from the back of his throat in his sleep, and instinctively you quietly hushed him. "Shh, it's okay, you're okay, I'm here."

He quieted once more, and a near inaudible sigh left your lips. How much longer before he became coherent? You had already called both Elliot's boss and yours, telling Gideon he'd caught a bad case of the flu and telling your boss you were dealing with a family emergency.

Your eyes drooped as you glanced at the time. 6:07pm. God, you just wanted to lie next to Elliot and sleep until noon. But you were worried that if you fell asleep and he needed your help, you wouldn't be awake to lend him the assistance he needed.

You straightened your spine, readjusting your posture as you gave his hand another gentle squeeze. You could do this. You would be there for him, no matter what.

You were both going to get through this.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Something startled you awake, your eyes snapping open and your body jerking to attention. You blinked slowly, vision taking a moment to clear up, before realization dawned on you. Oh god, you had fallen asleep. The last time you had looked at the clock it was 12:24am. You quickly checked the time again, hoping you hadn't been out for more than thirty-minutes-

12:30am.

Oh. You'd only been asleep for six minutes. Relief flooded your system as you ran a hand through your hair; leaning heavily against the wall as you gave a sigh. A pulsing pain invaded your mind, and you mumbled a quiet damn it as the headache continuously grew worse. You raised your free hand, closing your eyes as you rubbed at your temple in hopes it would help dissipate some of the pain. Truth be told, you were at a complete loss at what to do. Elliot's withdrawals had calmed down a bit, but it still made you worry. You weren't a doctor, you had no medical knowledge. What if this was a bad sign? What if he was dying and you were just sitting there doing nothing?

Worry gnawed at your mind like a starving beast. He had said no hospitals, but if something was wrong, he needed to go and see a doctor. How long were these withdrawals going to last? Was he going to be okay? So many questions and not a single answer. A part of your mind questioned if this worry was worth it, if Elliot was worth being your friend. You instantly squash that thought with a wave of fresh resolve. Of course he was worth it. He was your friend. Sure, he had flaws. Hell, he had a shit ton of flaws. But who didn't nowadays? Everyone had flaws—the number of them shouldn't affect such a strong friendship, right?

"(f/n)?" The familiar voice had you breaking out your thoughts instantly as you pushed away from the wall, looking down at Elliot through the dim light of the lamp you had turned on several hours ago. He looked almost completely lucid, though the hand in yours still trembled lightly. There was a look of confusion in his eyes, like he was lost as to what was going on.

You gave an exhausted smile, the quietest chuckle leaving your lips. "Hey, look who's finally back." Your voice cracked a little—from lack of water and sleep, or from sheer relief, you weren't completely sure. His brows furrowed further as he looked over your face.

"You look like shit," he said languidly, and a laugh escaped from you.

"Yeah, same could be said for you," you threw back. "How do you feel? Do you want some water?"

"Actually, some water would be–" Elliot went to move his hand, only to suddenly realize you were still holding it. You looked down at your connected hands, remembering his dislike for being touched.

"I-I'm sorry," you quickly apologized, moving to let go of his hand. But then another thing caught his eye, and he pushed himself up onto his elbow a little; grabbing your wrist with his free hand and pulling your arms closer to him. What the hell was he looking–? Oh. The bruises and scratches he left on your arms during the worse part of his withdraws. He looked terribly upset at seeing the marks, and you really didn't like seeing such an expression on his face. You gave a smile, thumb caressing the back of his hand once more

"Hey, let me get you some wat–"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, looking away. You knew he wasn't just apologizing for the injuries he inflicted on you. He meant for breaking his promise to you, for making you worry. He looked sorry for a lot of things, a look of regret and what looked like pain flickering through his (hypnotic) green eyes. His eyes flickered back to you. "You should get some rest."

"I'm going to now that you're feeling better." You looked back down at your joined hands. "Sorry. I know you don't like...being touched. I was just worried. It won't happen again." You moved to untangle your hands from his, only realizing how how intimate a thing it was for you. Holding hands—a things that couples do. It would probably the only time you actually get to touch his hands– 

"It's alright." You looked up at him, eyes partially wide. Was...was he saying it was okay to touch him like this...? No, you had to have heard him wrong. Right? "I kinda...like the feeling." His hand gave yours a hesitant squeeze, the corner of his lips twitching ever so lightly, and you swear you felt your cheeks heat a little as you looked down at your conjoined hands. You felt like yours fit perfectly in his hands, as corny as that sounded. Still, it made you feel happy. He gave a light tug, meaning he wanted you to lie down next to him.

"What about your water? Aren't you thirsty?"

"It's fine," he said. You opened your mouth to insist he drink something when he gave your hand another tug. "Lay with me?" He hesitated. "Please?" You swear your heart melted a bit in that moment, and you simply didn't have energy to argue with him. "How long were you here?"

"Three days," you answered, laying beside him and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. You didn't even care that Elliot was practically half naked beside you (though you did admire his chest for a quick second, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was your first time seeing him shirtless after all–), all you wanted was to finally get some shut eye. "You sure you're okay?" Your words were becoming slurred already, your mind turning foggy and eyesight blurring. Damn were you exhausted. You could only imagine how Elliot currently felt.

"I am now," Elliot replied, closing his eyes to get a proper sleep. "Get some rest, you need it more than I do."

It was meant as a joke, but you snorted. "If anyone in this building needs sleep, it's you." You stifled a yawn, nuzzling the pillow beneath you. Taking a deep breath, you inhaled his intoxicating scent, and it made your lips twitch in a smile.

There was a moment of silence, and you were just on the verge of falling asleep when Elliot spoke once more. "Thank you." A pause. "For not leaving me alone." You opened your eyes once more, noticing he was staring directly at you. You quickly wondered if you would ever find yourself in this situation again—opening your eyes to see him laying beside you, hands conjoined, preparing to fall asleep together. Your mind said no, that this would probably be a one time thing. But your heart said otherwise, and you decided to cling to that small ray of hope.

You gave his hand a promising squeeze. "You're never going to be alone again. Not if I can help it." You meant it, too. If you could, you would ask Elliot out. Ask him to be yours, so he'd never be lonely ever again. But you knew he wasn't ready for something like that, not yet.

Luckily, you were a patient person.

"Good night, Elliot."

"Good night, (f/n)."

Silence fell over the room once more as two pairs of eyes finally slipped shut, and you both fell into a deep but relaxing slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: please keep in mind that 1) i wrote and edited this while only have 3 hours of sleep in the prior night so if anything is wrong or inconsistent im sorry pls let me know, and 2) this is my first time writing Mr. Robot. hope it was alright! maybe leave a comment if i need to work on anything? :'] also, time wise, i would say this happens after shayla's death but before elliot discovers he's mr. robot. hope this was okay!


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